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C40 I’m Star-Lord
🕑 Added 2024-04-09 06:15:52 +0000 UTCThe corridors of the Jedi Temple infirmary hummed with the soft, persistent sounds of medical droids and the gentle murmur of healers at work. It was here, amidst the clinical serenity, that Gamora’s consciousness began to claw its way back, her senses gradually tuning in to the world around her.
Her eyes flickered open, adjusting slowly to the dim light. The room felt sterile and peaceful, a far cry from the atmosphere back home. ‘Where am I?’ She wondered as her memory of her fight with Nebula began to slowly surface.
But before she could think too much, suddenly, voices, muffled and indistinct, filtered through the air, the words slowly becoming clearer as she regained her bearings.
“…I just don’t see how the Council can overlook this. She was fighting alongside those things that attacked the Temple,” one voice argued, his tone laced with a mix of frustration and disbelief.
Sitting up in her hospital bed, Gamora caught sight of a few silhouettes, standing outside the curtain that separated her space from the rest of the infirmary, seemingly talking about her.
Another voice, softer and more contemplative, countered, “But she’s barely more than a child, isn’t she? Fear and manipulation can drive even the best of us to unthinkable actions. Who knows what she’s been through?”
A third chimed in, a hint of weariness in their tone, “Locking her up won’t solve anything. It’s clear she needs guidance, not imprisonment. Still, it’s not our place to decide. The Council will have to deliberate on this and determine her fate.”
The conversation ebbed and flowed, a tide of opinions that washed over Gamora, each word tightening the knot of panic in her stomach. ‘Lock me up? Determine my fate?’ The thoughts raced through her mind, a frantic pulse urging her to action.
Without a second thought, Gamora swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements swift and quiet. She could feel the weight of their gazes as she pushed past the curtain and ran off, but she didn’t dare look back. Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat a deafening drum of escape.
As she made her move, sprinting towards the door, a chorus of voices erupted behind her. “Wait! Stop!”
But she didn’t heed their calls. The only thought that fueled her was the need to escape, to evade the invisible chains they sought to bind her with.
The automatic doors slid open just in time, and she burst through at full speed, but she didn’t get far. Because just as she took a few steps out of the Infirmary, suddenly, the world tilted. A figure loomed before her, too close to avoid. She collided with it—a solid, unyielding presence—and the impact sent her tumbling to the ground.
Above her stood Peter Quill, the boy who was with her sister when she first arrived, his expression a canvas of confusion and concern. He looked down at her, the chaos of the moment reflected in his eyes. “Gamora?”
Gamora’s instincts screamed at her to flee, her chest heaved as she scrambled to her feet, her gaze darting between Peter and the Jedi doctors closing in from behind. She was trapped, and in that instant, desperation morphed into determination.
She wouldn’t go down without a fight!
“Why are you running?” Peter’s voice was calm, an attempt to diffuse the tension, but it was too late. Gamora’s mind was made up.
Without warning, she lunged at Peter, her fists clenched. Her training took over, each movement precise and aimed to kill if need be.
But Peter, seemingly anticipating her every move, sidestepped with an ease and swiftness that contradicted his previous nonchalance. His connection to the Force allowed him a glimpse into her intentions, turning what would have been a fierce assault into a futile endeavor.
Gamora, undeterred, aimed a swift kick at Peter’s midsection, but with a calm look on his face, he caught her leg in mid-air, his reaction time and strength enhanced to a level far above hers.
With a gentle push, he redirected her momentum, sending her stumbling backward. “Look, why don’t you just take a breath and calm down, okay?” He continued to try and diffuse the situation.
Yet, Gamora couldn’t be reasoned with, her mind that of a cornered animal as she recovered quickly, spinning around to deliver a roundhouse kick aimed at Peter’s head.
But Peter was already a step ahead, ducking under the kick and reaching out to poke her stomach, nudging Gamora’s balance off kilter. He then reached out, not to strike, but to restrain. His use of the Force was gentle, yet firm, wrapping around her wrists like ethereal shackles, halting her movements.
At this point, Gamora’s frustration was already at its peak. She attempted to break free, her body twisting and turning in an effort to escape Peter’s grasp, but it was in vain. After all, he’s practically a prodigy when it comes to force telekinesis.
With her restrained in place, Peter walked closer, an eyebrow raised in a mix of challenge and curiosity. “Are you done now?” he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.
Gamora, catching her breath, managed to compose herself. She straightened, meeting Peter’s gaze. “Yeah, I’m calm…” she replied, her tone suggesting surrender but suddenly her eyes flashed with the last ember of defiance.
It was that ember which sparked her next action. Just as Peter began to let his guard down, believing the confrontation was over, Gamora launched herself forward. In a final, desperate attempt at escape, she tried to headbutt Peter, hoping to catch him off guard.
The momentary silence within the infirmary was abruptly broken by a resounding crack, as Gamora’s forehead collided forcefully with Peter’s face. The unexpected attack surprised him, his reaction a blend of shock and instinctual defense.
In the immediate aftermath of the impact, his control over the Force wavered, leading to an inadvertent surge in the telekinetic energy he was employing to restrain Gamora.
This overwhelming force sent her crashing backward with such intensity that upon hitting the ground, the breath was violently expelled from her lungs, leaving her sprawled and struggling for air.
Peter, meanwhile, was left clutching his face, his eyes, wide with surprise and pain, met Gamora’s defiant glare, both combatants caught in a moment of unexpected violence.
“Was that really necessary?” Peter managed to grunt out, the ache in his face distorting his usual tone into a pained growl.
Gamora, still sprawled on the floor, offered no apology, only matching his glare with a fierce one of her own. Yet, the arrival of the Jedi doctors, with their mix of concern and authority, made her realize the futility of further resistance. A resigned look crossed her face as she lay there, catching her breath, her earlier desperation now morphed into defeat.
One of the doctors, more concerned for Peter’s well-being, approached him quickly to assess the damage. “Are you alright?” the doctor asked, ready to assist.
Peter, still holding his face, nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, a muffled response as he began to channel the Force into his healing. The bruises and swelling began to fade, leaving no trace of the injury, a process that left Gamora in awe.
“How did you do that?” Gamora asked, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.
“With the Force,” Peter replied with a cryptic smile, the simplicity of his answer doing nothing to clarify the depth of his abilities to Gamora, whose knowledge of the Jedi and their powers was minimal at best.
As the medical team made moves to restrain Gamora, so that they could bring her back into the Infirmary, Peter intervened. “No need for that,” he assured them. “She’s just scared. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything rash again. Besides, she isn’t a prisoner, at least not yet.”
The doctors exchanged looks, their skepticism evident, but they ultimately conceded, leaving Peter and Gamora alone with a reminder that Gamora needed a thorough check-up in the morning.
Once the healers had departed, leaving an uneasy peace in their wake, Gamora turned to Peter, her expression shifting to one of concern. “Where’s my sister?” she asked, the worry for Nebula cutting through the tension of their recent conflict.
Peter gestured toward the back of the infirmary. “She’s being treated over there,” he said, indicating a secluded area where Nebula lay, still unconscious but under the careful watch of the Jedi healers. “She’s fine, they ran all sorts of tests on both of you to be sure…”
Gamora, moved by a surge of mixed emotions, walked past Peter towards her sister, her footsteps hesitant yet determined. As she approached Nebula’s bedside, she paused, taking in the sight of her sister, peaceful in her slumber.
The sight softened her heart, filling it with sadness and regret over their last encounter, which had been anything but peaceful, nor was it the only encounter she regretted.
As Gamora stared at her sister, her face a mask of conflicting emotions, Peter felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. The quiet hum of the Jedi Temple’s infirmary blended into the background as he mulled over the dire necessity of bringing Thanos’ looming threat to the Council’s attention. The urgency of the situation pressed against his chest like a physical force.
Peter stepped closer to Gamora, clearing his throat slightly to draw her attention away from Nebula. “Umm, hey, I’m Peter, by the way,” he began, his voice soft yet carrying a seriousness that matched the gravity of their situation, “Do you mind answering a few questions?”
“What? Why?” She asked, clearly still on guard.
“Because I asked nicely?” Peter replied, receiving a skeptical look in return.
After a moment of silence between them, ultimately, Gamora relented. “Fine, what do you want to know?”
“Can you tell me who or what the Mad Titan is?” Peter jumped straight to the heart of the matter.
Of course, he already knew all about Thanos, but he couldn’t just bring it up to the Jedi without proof. Thankfully, he now had Nebula and Gamora for that.
Gamora’s gaze snapped to Peter, her eyebrows knitting together in a mixture of confusion and concern. “The Mad Titan?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where did you hear that name?”
“The guy you were with, before he died, he mentioned that the ‘Mad Titan’ would avenge him and burn our planet,” Peter explained, watching her reactions closely. “Who’s the Mad Titan?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Gamora’s face, quickly replaced by a shadow of dread. “You killed Corvus? How? And what about Proxima?” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and concern.
Peter nodded, a grim expression settling over his features. “Everyone who came with you is dead, including all of those bug soldiers.”
The revelation seemed to strike Gamora like a physical blow. She absorbed the news, her expression shifting from shock to realization as the full weight of her situation dawned on her. Alone, surrounded by those she had fought against, she was utterly vulnerable. The fear that had been simmering beneath the surface now etched itself openly on her face.
Seeing her distress, Peter placed a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Look, the Jedi won’t harm a child, Gamora. You have nothing to worry about. Grandmaster Yoda would never allow it. Although we killed your friends, the Jedi are about as peaceful as it gets in this Galaxy…”
Her eyes flicked to his, searching for sincerity. Finding it, her shoulders slumped slightly, though the tension didn’t entirely leave her posture. “They aren’t my friends…” she mutters, making her disdain for Corvus and Proxima clear.
“I see, then that makes this a little bit easier,” Peter continued, his tone earnest. “I need your help. Can you tell us everything you know about all this? We need to be prepared if the planet and its people are at risk. And if you’re willing to speak in front of the Jedi Council, that would be even better. They might even forgive your involvement in what happened as well.”
Gamora was silent for a long moment, her thoughts racing. Finally, she nodded, a small sign of trust in Peter and the possibility of leniency from the Council. “I’ll explain everything,” she said, her voice stronger now, resolute.
And explain she did…
A/N: 2100 words :)
